Posts
A few weeks back, I purchased a large Herkimer piece. The large central piece is nearly four inches long with smaller herkimers partially included. I hadn't visited the farmer's market crystal stand in a long while.
While at The Om my eye settled on a large piece. I can't recall exactly what it was, but it was something new. And it was expensive. Over $100. I didn't get the sense that it was unequivocally mine and that I needed to buy it. It's energy was commanding and I needed to hold it a while, but that was it. After several minutes I sat it down. As I've noted in an earlier post, I can generally tell by energetic scan which pieces are new. My physical eye is drawn to them by the impression they make on my third eye.
After scanning the whole of the farmer's market booth, my eye settled on a very large herkimer. It was one of two they had displayed. As soon as I saw it I knew it was going home with me. It is an amazing feeling that I've described on several occasions. The certainty and clarity of what belongs to us. There are certain stones that as soon as I see them, I know they are meant to go home with me. A favorite story of a friend that helps me act on these moments deals with an item that he saw in a market on a trip to Spain. He loved it at first sight, but hesitated to make such an expensive decision hastily. By the next day, he knew with all his being that it was exquisitely perfect for him, meant for him. Unfortunately some other soul concluded the same and made the decision without hesitation.
The failure to act haunts him to this day. It isn't that his life has suffered because the item didn't make it into his hands. It's the regret of having doubted what belonged to him. A version of the girl that gets away.
Not that the point isn't made, but it also reminds me of a jacket that a motorcycle-riding buddy of mine saw at a huge convention center expo years ago. He'd tried on dozens of jackets at several different booths. Finally, there was one that was gorgeous on him. He didn't seize the moment. The next day when he went back, it was gone. Five years later, he's still in search of the perfect jacket.
Perhaps its these stories of others that enable me to take seriously those moments of certainty and act on them.
This herkimer was what I'd come to the booth to buy. I was delighted that this was the stone. Part of the delight was that it was a herkimer and everyone knows these are pretty cheap. I thought, "yeah, I dodged the $100-plus item". And then I turned over the Herkimer to reveal the price underneath. We know what I found.
No time to be cheap. I'd already committed to it, already acknowledged we belonged together. It has proven to be priceless.
Among the many smaller pieces attached about the larger herkimer was an inch-long and 1/2-inch thick herkimer which sat atop it like a child resting on it's mother's belly. It was certainly my favorite part of the whole to gaze upon and finger. It's citrine-smokey flavor gave a distinct character from its mostly clear and white host.
I bought it a few days before my trip to Turks and Caicos (TCI) and knew I was meant to take it with me. I took it and five others to be cleansed in the Caribbean Sea.
Since purchasing it, I sleep with it every night. Just over a week ago, it managed to fall to the ground. I don't know if it hit the metal of my bed frame or the lamp post, but I know the impact was enough to break it apart. Three pieces came off. The first was this very lovely smokey-citriny flavored piece perfect for the pocket each day. My days have been much more peaceful and protected since I began carrying it around.
The other is a smaller herkimer, the more typical 1/4 - 1/2 inch variety. I'm planning to have it placed in a ring setting so that I can carry this energy with me all the time--either the pocket piece or the ring. The third piece that fell off was a small slab. As for the larger piece, it is with me as I sleep every night and has been since TCI.
Why tell the tale of the breaking herkimer? It feels like a writing companion. Since purchasing the Herkimer, my ability to communicate with the muses collaborating with me on Luzca's story has increased. I had it with me on TCI when the breadth of the story typed its way onto the page while I watched.
I've been writing regularly and have seen an increase in the integrity of my personal boundaries. Beautiful stuff.
Fate went to a lot of trouble to bring that special herkimer from a mine in New York to a farmer's market on the other side of the continent. It arranged an unexpected pocket of time for me to spend ten minutes at the same market the day after I'd booked my trip when I had a ton of errands to run.
It's not always easy to say yes to fate, yes to the universe when it gives us what we want and need. At some point we learn it is even harder on us if we say no.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
New life
The front half of my home is being painted as I type. Brighter colors, whiter colors. Clarity and insights.
They painted the ceiling first. It was the primary reason I embarked on painting the living room...again. I painted it a light shade of green four years ago, but left the ceiling the same drab color I erased from the walls.
A short while into spraying the ceiling the white with a slight tint of blue, the primary painter, Filiberto, asked me to come check it out. I did. Fantastic. When I saw the difference it made, just painting brightness onto the ceiling, I realized I probably could have kept the walls their green.
At the last minute I decided to ask him to do the kitchen too. In nine years living here, I never painted the kitchen before today. The nine years worth of yellowing on that tan was in as much need of lighter and brighter as the living room's ceiling. Now the place is so bright. A whole new life.
It is so fitting. Funny how I've been wanting to make my living room an attractive space for years now. The furniture I first bought eight years ago was a good start. For me, it was a good start. The painting four years ago with a light shade of green in the living area to match what I already owned made sense too.
Now, like my new vision of myself as artist
my new vision of myself as destined to live in the Caribbean
my new certainty and vision of Luzca's tale as a completed novel
I've got a completed and certain view of my living room.
The completed view made picking the right color easy. I've already got in view the furniture. When I bought the stuff eight years ago, I was open to whatever caught my eye. In other words, I had no purpose, no goal, no clue. And that worked out ok. Just ok.
Having the clarity of a complete picture works better. Buying new light fixtures will go a lot easier with a clear picture. The best way to describe the mood is light, relaxed and comfortable.
So I keep a clear a goal in my mind. I commit to it, starting at the top. Picking out the right accessory to shine my light becomes easy. The result is lighter living. Sounds about right.
As goes the home, so goes the soul.
As goes the soul, so goes the home.
They painted the ceiling first. It was the primary reason I embarked on painting the living room...again. I painted it a light shade of green four years ago, but left the ceiling the same drab color I erased from the walls.
A short while into spraying the ceiling the white with a slight tint of blue, the primary painter, Filiberto, asked me to come check it out. I did. Fantastic. When I saw the difference it made, just painting brightness onto the ceiling, I realized I probably could have kept the walls their green.
At the last minute I decided to ask him to do the kitchen too. In nine years living here, I never painted the kitchen before today. The nine years worth of yellowing on that tan was in as much need of lighter and brighter as the living room's ceiling. Now the place is so bright. A whole new life.
It is so fitting. Funny how I've been wanting to make my living room an attractive space for years now. The furniture I first bought eight years ago was a good start. For me, it was a good start. The painting four years ago with a light shade of green in the living area to match what I already owned made sense too.
Now, like my new vision of myself as artist
my new vision of myself as destined to live in the Caribbean
my new certainty and vision of Luzca's tale as a completed novel
I've got a completed and certain view of my living room.
The completed view made picking the right color easy. I've already got in view the furniture. When I bought the stuff eight years ago, I was open to whatever caught my eye. In other words, I had no purpose, no goal, no clue. And that worked out ok. Just ok.
Having the clarity of a complete picture works better. Buying new light fixtures will go a lot easier with a clear picture. The best way to describe the mood is light, relaxed and comfortable.
So I keep a clear a goal in my mind. I commit to it, starting at the top. Picking out the right accessory to shine my light becomes easy. The result is lighter living. Sounds about right.
As goes the home, so goes the soul.
As goes the soul, so goes the home.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Success...Shameless Bragging
I stop in the middle of bliss to share my excitement. Finally, heaven right here, right now.
My many entries are testament to my struggle to live a more authentic life, a more God-centered, bliss-filled, confident and artistic life.
This morning, success.
The key. Following my heart, heeding intuition. Oh yeah, and loving, loving, loving everyone. The power of recognizing the love that is already present in our lives. A lot of words to say living a life of gratitude and freedom?
I haven't walked in weeks, not since I came back from TCI. This morning I was in the mood. I'd had a fitful sleep for two reasons. Firstly, it's hot. Not a fan of air-conditioning unless absolutely necessary, I slept with the windows open and ditched the blankets. The only problem with this is that as the air cools, I wake up every couple hours to add a layer of clothing or covering. The second reason would be an entry unto itself, but the sum of it was that the night before brought me even closer to understanding the power of accepting and appreciating the love in our lives in all its varied forms.
This morning I was able to follow my heart, take my walk. When I got home I didn't do my usual. Usually, after a Saturday morning walk, I take a shower while my chai tea steeps and then sit down all fresh and relaxed to read the morning paper. This morning my heart said do something different. I did.
After my long post-walk stretch, I did as my heart moved me, I turned on the computer to work on my book. Can you believe it??? Dear reader. If you've read anything of mine, you know that I talk about writing more than I write on most days. You've probably sniffed out that I am afraid of my power to write, that I fear my perceived inadequacy for the task, and that I come up with a ton of distractions, excuses and justifications for doing everything but actually writing this book for which passion burns in my bosom.
And here I was following my heart. I sat down to type. I don't actually "write" very often unless I'm sketching a scene or working out the plot lines through journaling.
This morning I worked on the writing. The words. This is the part I most fear, most dread. It is such a fine line between writing for an audience and simply writing from my heart while still taking care with word choice. The former creates trite dribble, the latter, when I can do it, creates stuff I love enough to fine tune in the manner a craftsman might work a block a wood until the sculpture waiting to be set free is allowed to display for all its perfected existence.
The intial scene I laid down on Thursday evening. I left work with a pressing need to hurry home and write. I heard and I obeyed. It was thrilling. I sat at the computer and began to type. That is what I was editing and expanding on this morning.
Thursday's pressing urgency made sense as I got home and started typing up the scene that came to me. The true gift I was to receive wasn't the scene itself but, finally, a view to the story's outline and structure.
I'm going to speak my truth and shame the devil: I shook and shivered and then stumbled from my back room where I type down the hall and then fell out on the floor in the center of my home. Dramatic, I know. And yet, it's the truth. It wasn't what I'd anticipated or expected. I thought I was just going to "receive" a scene. Instead, I got the book's structure, tone and a general sense of its organization and style. Unprecedented. It's like praying to God for a good meal when you've been having the same tired sustenance for days on end. You just hope it will be something hot and delicious...and different. He asks if you're willing to do what he asks for it. Desperate, you agree.
In this case, I agree to go home and type.
Having followed what he places in your heart, you open a door that you'd passed day after day after day, never noticing or giving it much attention. He says open it, you do. Inside is the spread of lifetime. Forget buffet. We're talking a refined, handsome waiter who delivers the most exceptional seven-course meal your imagination never could conceive. Only it's all the stuff you swore times past you didn't like. Turns out you like it just fine when the ingredients are fresh and the dish prepared with love. Good thing the chef chose the meal for you and you weren't given the option to dictate your own blessing.
Do you blame me for shaking, shivering and stumbling my way onto the ground in disbelief? The story isn't anything I'd have chosen for myself to work on and yet I am delighted with it. The way it is to be told scares me. (Yes, I'm deliberately evasive as I wait to fully make peace with it and receive a fuller vision.)
On the way home earlier that Thursday evening I listened to an National Public Radio show on books. An author was being interviewed. The universe at work. Something from the show combines with conversations I've had recently with a buddy and I realize I don't have to "like" what I write. I'm not saying I can write something horrid or that I'm detached from it. Just that I can stop waiting to absolutely, 100% love each and every aspect of my story. It isn't about me. It's a story. It's got it's own life. I was open to letting it be what it needed to be. Stumble, stumble, fall.
I've often equated works of art to children, and the co-creators--the authors or musicians or sculptors, etc.--to parent figures who nurse the work into existence, into maturity. I truly believe, even moreso now, that works of art, great or small, good or bad, are no less gifts given for safekeeping and care than children. Of course, I'm childless, so if I offend anyone who believes children are more precious than works of art, you are welcome to indulge yourself by considering it a reflection of my ignorance.
This morning the baby asked to be held. I didn't ignore it or make any excuses.
I sat at the computer and was shocked to see what beauty God had delivered to me for nurturance and development.
Success. The experience of writing. It's own joy. Bliss. Heaven on earth.
Co-creation is a joy.
Done writing about writing, back to bliss I go.
I'm a (true) believer...
My many entries are testament to my struggle to live a more authentic life, a more God-centered, bliss-filled, confident and artistic life.
This morning, success.
The key. Following my heart, heeding intuition. Oh yeah, and loving, loving, loving everyone. The power of recognizing the love that is already present in our lives. A lot of words to say living a life of gratitude and freedom?
I haven't walked in weeks, not since I came back from TCI. This morning I was in the mood. I'd had a fitful sleep for two reasons. Firstly, it's hot. Not a fan of air-conditioning unless absolutely necessary, I slept with the windows open and ditched the blankets. The only problem with this is that as the air cools, I wake up every couple hours to add a layer of clothing or covering. The second reason would be an entry unto itself, but the sum of it was that the night before brought me even closer to understanding the power of accepting and appreciating the love in our lives in all its varied forms.
This morning I was able to follow my heart, take my walk. When I got home I didn't do my usual. Usually, after a Saturday morning walk, I take a shower while my chai tea steeps and then sit down all fresh and relaxed to read the morning paper. This morning my heart said do something different. I did.
After my long post-walk stretch, I did as my heart moved me, I turned on the computer to work on my book. Can you believe it??? Dear reader. If you've read anything of mine, you know that I talk about writing more than I write on most days. You've probably sniffed out that I am afraid of my power to write, that I fear my perceived inadequacy for the task, and that I come up with a ton of distractions, excuses and justifications for doing everything but actually writing this book for which passion burns in my bosom.
And here I was following my heart. I sat down to type. I don't actually "write" very often unless I'm sketching a scene or working out the plot lines through journaling.
This morning I worked on the writing. The words. This is the part I most fear, most dread. It is such a fine line between writing for an audience and simply writing from my heart while still taking care with word choice. The former creates trite dribble, the latter, when I can do it, creates stuff I love enough to fine tune in the manner a craftsman might work a block a wood until the sculpture waiting to be set free is allowed to display for all its perfected existence.
The intial scene I laid down on Thursday evening. I left work with a pressing need to hurry home and write. I heard and I obeyed. It was thrilling. I sat at the computer and began to type. That is what I was editing and expanding on this morning.
Thursday's pressing urgency made sense as I got home and started typing up the scene that came to me. The true gift I was to receive wasn't the scene itself but, finally, a view to the story's outline and structure.
I'm going to speak my truth and shame the devil: I shook and shivered and then stumbled from my back room where I type down the hall and then fell out on the floor in the center of my home. Dramatic, I know. And yet, it's the truth. It wasn't what I'd anticipated or expected. I thought I was just going to "receive" a scene. Instead, I got the book's structure, tone and a general sense of its organization and style. Unprecedented. It's like praying to God for a good meal when you've been having the same tired sustenance for days on end. You just hope it will be something hot and delicious...and different. He asks if you're willing to do what he asks for it. Desperate, you agree.
In this case, I agree to go home and type.
Having followed what he places in your heart, you open a door that you'd passed day after day after day, never noticing or giving it much attention. He says open it, you do. Inside is the spread of lifetime. Forget buffet. We're talking a refined, handsome waiter who delivers the most exceptional seven-course meal your imagination never could conceive. Only it's all the stuff you swore times past you didn't like. Turns out you like it just fine when the ingredients are fresh and the dish prepared with love. Good thing the chef chose the meal for you and you weren't given the option to dictate your own blessing.
Do you blame me for shaking, shivering and stumbling my way onto the ground in disbelief? The story isn't anything I'd have chosen for myself to work on and yet I am delighted with it. The way it is to be told scares me. (Yes, I'm deliberately evasive as I wait to fully make peace with it and receive a fuller vision.)
On the way home earlier that Thursday evening I listened to an National Public Radio show on books. An author was being interviewed. The universe at work. Something from the show combines with conversations I've had recently with a buddy and I realize I don't have to "like" what I write. I'm not saying I can write something horrid or that I'm detached from it. Just that I can stop waiting to absolutely, 100% love each and every aspect of my story. It isn't about me. It's a story. It's got it's own life. I was open to letting it be what it needed to be. Stumble, stumble, fall.
I've often equated works of art to children, and the co-creators--the authors or musicians or sculptors, etc.--to parent figures who nurse the work into existence, into maturity. I truly believe, even moreso now, that works of art, great or small, good or bad, are no less gifts given for safekeeping and care than children. Of course, I'm childless, so if I offend anyone who believes children are more precious than works of art, you are welcome to indulge yourself by considering it a reflection of my ignorance.
This morning the baby asked to be held. I didn't ignore it or make any excuses.
I sat at the computer and was shocked to see what beauty God had delivered to me for nurturance and development.
Success. The experience of writing. It's own joy. Bliss. Heaven on earth.
Co-creation is a joy.
Done writing about writing, back to bliss I go.
I'm a (true) believer...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
It's happening.
God truly places certain people in our lives to help us reach our goals. This isn't anything new to anyone who'd find their way to this blog. As commonplace and accepted a notion as this is, it still amazes me when I reflect on specific folks. Each and every one of my friends are uniquely important to me. I don't have a wide circle. I wouldn't even call it a circle. Not even a web, really. I have very specific individuals in my life who offer unique friendships. They are people who'd only find themselves all in the same room if it was a party for me. What they have in common is a desire to grow, to stretch themselves and to become their best person at whatever the cost.
These are folks who are willing to work at themselves. Continuously!
Tonight I had a fantastic time writing. Last night I went to a session on NLP, Neuro-Linguistic Programming. It was sponsored by newest girlfriend's new boyfriend. I went with an open mind. She only mentioned it to me the day before, after joining me for a meal at a Thai restaurant after church. She was such a good sport. I wanted that place and only that place, but wasn't sure I remembered the street. She was up for the adventure. I love that about all my friends.
As we got out she mentions that she'll be going to this gathering about NLP. I'd heard about it before and was immediately intrigued. I asked if it was OK to invit myself.
I share this and the importance of the people we draw into our lives, because in that workshop, they did a goal-setting exercise that included a 24-hour objective and one for a week's time. I set as my goal to allow my fingers and intuition to create at least one new scene within twenty-four hours.
That's just been done.
The week goal is to complete--build-up the details and edit--one of the scenes I typed up on Provo, TCI. I already began that process tonight as well.
It is amazing what can be done with the support of our loved ones.
Last weekend I shared the details for the first time with my oldest friends. Each of them offered unconditional support. The night before going to my new church, my "oldest buddy" spent the night. I have to put "oldest buddy" in quotes because technically I met another buddy eight months earlier. He is literally the oldest, that's true. But I also feel like he's the oldest because we always talk about going back so many lifetimes ago. We laugh about going back so far that he remembers the time I got kicked out of the cave for bringing back a still-on-fire lightning-struck branch. I couldn't figure out why no one else thought it was the coolest discovery. That was the first lifetime he had to save me from myself and from what I make others want to do to me when I go off all excited and blinded to consequences by the bliss of adventure.
This buddy spent the night Saturday night as a quick stopover between celebrating a big event with his family and driving several hundred miles back to the home he and his wife just relocated to a few months back. Like all my buddies, his encouragement was done in a style and manner uniquely his. He challenged me to make the most of this writing opportunity.
Long blog to say a public "THANK YOU!!!!" to all of you for listening to me and encouraging me and participating with me as I embark on this adventure. It is new territory. I spent more than a year fighting fear and doubt just to get to this point where I am willing to set a 24-hour goal to write a scene...and then do it.
Last night's NLP meditation and goal-setting session helped me actually visualize having two completed chapters by September. The funny thing, though, was that as soon as I tried to visualize that, trying to meet the suggestion of "realiztic", I found a deeper part assuring me that the storyline would be completed by then. Mind you, I said storyline. The development of the scenes into a format that has a singular, consistent and narratively sophisticated tone...
The NLP group meets again next week.
Separately...I've found MY new church.
She's been telling me about this church for months. As soon as I came back from my trip, I was interested, it was on my mind. Now I know why. It's exactly the environment I need as I dive into the process of writing this book from a place of commitment and working on finding my way to my island home.
Early into the service and all the way through to the end, I felt like I belonged there. That's never happened to me, by the way. Walk into a church and feel completely and entirely at home. She goes several times a year. I may eventually do so too, but for now plan to go every week for a while. I want to get a better feel for the entire ministry. It resonates with everything about me and my spirituality and beliefs. I'm good for love at first sight. We'll see in a month if it is all that I thought. My ex-husband and I were also love at first sight.
(now that I'm really spending time writing my book, expect my posts to read more and more like the first-drafts they are more and more likely to be. And if you can't tell the difference...keep that to yourself:))
These are folks who are willing to work at themselves. Continuously!
Tonight I had a fantastic time writing. Last night I went to a session on NLP, Neuro-Linguistic Programming. It was sponsored by newest girlfriend's new boyfriend. I went with an open mind. She only mentioned it to me the day before, after joining me for a meal at a Thai restaurant after church. She was such a good sport. I wanted that place and only that place, but wasn't sure I remembered the street. She was up for the adventure. I love that about all my friends.
As we got out she mentions that she'll be going to this gathering about NLP. I'd heard about it before and was immediately intrigued. I asked if it was OK to invit myself.
I share this and the importance of the people we draw into our lives, because in that workshop, they did a goal-setting exercise that included a 24-hour objective and one for a week's time. I set as my goal to allow my fingers and intuition to create at least one new scene within twenty-four hours.
That's just been done.
The week goal is to complete--build-up the details and edit--one of the scenes I typed up on Provo, TCI. I already began that process tonight as well.
It is amazing what can be done with the support of our loved ones.
Last weekend I shared the details for the first time with my oldest friends. Each of them offered unconditional support. The night before going to my new church, my "oldest buddy" spent the night. I have to put "oldest buddy" in quotes because technically I met another buddy eight months earlier. He is literally the oldest, that's true. But I also feel like he's the oldest because we always talk about going back so many lifetimes ago. We laugh about going back so far that he remembers the time I got kicked out of the cave for bringing back a still-on-fire lightning-struck branch. I couldn't figure out why no one else thought it was the coolest discovery. That was the first lifetime he had to save me from myself and from what I make others want to do to me when I go off all excited and blinded to consequences by the bliss of adventure.
This buddy spent the night Saturday night as a quick stopover between celebrating a big event with his family and driving several hundred miles back to the home he and his wife just relocated to a few months back. Like all my buddies, his encouragement was done in a style and manner uniquely his. He challenged me to make the most of this writing opportunity.
Long blog to say a public "THANK YOU!!!!" to all of you for listening to me and encouraging me and participating with me as I embark on this adventure. It is new territory. I spent more than a year fighting fear and doubt just to get to this point where I am willing to set a 24-hour goal to write a scene...and then do it.
Last night's NLP meditation and goal-setting session helped me actually visualize having two completed chapters by September. The funny thing, though, was that as soon as I tried to visualize that, trying to meet the suggestion of "realiztic", I found a deeper part assuring me that the storyline would be completed by then. Mind you, I said storyline. The development of the scenes into a format that has a singular, consistent and narratively sophisticated tone...
The NLP group meets again next week.
Separately...I've found MY new church.
She's been telling me about this church for months. As soon as I came back from my trip, I was interested, it was on my mind. Now I know why. It's exactly the environment I need as I dive into the process of writing this book from a place of commitment and working on finding my way to my island home.
Early into the service and all the way through to the end, I felt like I belonged there. That's never happened to me, by the way. Walk into a church and feel completely and entirely at home. She goes several times a year. I may eventually do so too, but for now plan to go every week for a while. I want to get a better feel for the entire ministry. It resonates with everything about me and my spirituality and beliefs. I'm good for love at first sight. We'll see in a month if it is all that I thought. My ex-husband and I were also love at first sight.
(now that I'm really spending time writing my book, expect my posts to read more and more like the first-drafts they are more and more likely to be. And if you can't tell the difference...keep that to yourself:))
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